


The Devil Is Imprecise

by Gehayi



Series: History of Magic [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate History, Asian-American Character, Black Character(s), Gen, High School, Historical References, History of Magic in North America, Latino Character, Logic, Muggle/Wizard Relations, Not Pottermore Compliant, Salem Witch Trials, Scourers, Trans Female Character, Witches, Wizarding Schools, Wizarding World, Wizards, latina character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 20:24:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6254569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gehayi/pseuds/Gehayi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which five teenagers at an American wizarding school are emphatically right, their teacher relates some uncomfortable events, and a textbook full of illogic and contradictions gets the treatment it so well deserves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Devil Is Imprecise

"' The famous Salem Witch Trials of 1692-93," Mrs. Frazer read aloud one morning in early September as the five sophomores in her History of Magic in North America class followed her in their own texts, "'were a tragedy for the wizarding community. Wizarding historians'"—Tanisha Jemisin mentally added air quotes around those two words—"'agree that among the so-called Puritan judges were at least two known Scourers, who were paying off feuds that had developed while in America.'" 

" _What_ feuds?" Tanisha demanded, crossing her arms over her chest, trying to feel Beyoncé-ly regal despite being short and fifteen. The sick rage burning inside her helped. "Most of the judges came from outside Salem Village and Salem Town! And who were they feuding with? Tituba? Candy? My several-times-great-grandma?"

"I'm fairly sure that there was no accused witch named Candy in 1692," Mrs. Frazer said, adjusting her untidy gray-brown bun and glaring at Tanisha reprovingly. 

Tanisha shrugged. "That was her name. She was a black woman from Barbados, and she was one of three slaves accused of witchcraft. Just like my great-grandma—yeah, I _know_ , she's more than my great-grandma, but I don't know how many "greats" to add. Her name was Mary Black and _she_ was accused of witchcraft after her owner said that Rebecca Nurse was innocent and shouldn't be arrested. But instead of the girls accusing her owner, who was a rich white dude and the cousin of one of the girls, three of them—probably on the orders of Mary's owner's uncle, because the uncle was a greedy dick who had anyone whose land he wanted accused of being a witch so he could steal it—accused Mary instead so he could steal her owner’s land. Probably thought Mary'd break and accuse her owner. 

"But she didn't. All that anyone could dig up was that a man _might_ have sat next to her on a bench outdoors the year before, and even the brats spewing all these lies couldn't turn that into a deal with the devil. She was finally released from jail after the brats accused the governor's wife of witchcraft and the governor said, 'Okay, this shit is _over_. The court is dissolved. Everyone in jail, y'all are now free and pardoned, so go home.'

"But the judges weren't responsible for any of that. Greedy Bastard wasn't a judge in the witch trials. He was just an entitled asshole who happened to live in Salem and who didn't like his nephew saying that any of the accused were innocent. Because that made the creep's daughter either wrong or a liar—and either one meant that he'd have to give the land back." Tanisha rolled her eyes. "Like I said, asshole."

Just as Mrs. Frazer was opening her mouth— _probably to scold me for inappropriate language,_ Tanisha thought wearily, _even though I'd swear before the Lord God Almighty that it was_ completely _appropriate_.

"There _was_ a feud between Thomas Putnam and Giles Corey, though," said Alice Ellsworth, a tall, rangy girl who was all elbows and knees and who had, at the moment, the remnants of a brown goatee. Alice was trans, and doctors and magical healers were still trying to figure out the best way of inducing hormonal changes in a way compatible with both her body and her magic, since magic was at least partially genetic. "Putnam and Corey sued each other all the time. Mostly about land, I think. That's the way it was in _The Crucible_."

Tanisha nodded. That part of the play had been pretty accurate, she had to admit. 

"Yeah, the surveyor maps sucked," said Lara Perez, a second-generation gamer. Her mother had even named her after the heroines of her then-favorite games, _Tomb Raider_ and _Resident Evil—Code: Veronica_ , Lara Croft and Claire Redfield. Lara loved maps—those of the real world and of imaginary places—the way that almost every kid Tanisha knew loved bands. "Part of Corey's land showed up on a corner of Putnam's map, I think, and Corey said that it was his land and that he had a map to prove it, and it just went on like that. 

"But still—Putnam wasn't a judge. So the textbook is wrong."

"Wait, wait, let me find out who the judges were!" yelled Nick Lavoie, tapping a search term—or so Tanisha presumed—into his phone; no _modern_ magical school in the United States would _dream_ of attempting to run without electricity, computers or WiFi, and Rhode Island's Edmonia Lewis Academy was no different. 

A moment later, he frowned. "Okay, this is weird. There were three courts. There was a sort of…magisterial court? And then there was the Special Court of Oyer and Terminer—whatever the hell 'oyer and terminer' are." He pronounced the words "oy-ER" and "TER-min-er". "That was established in May 1692 by the governor, Sir William Phips. That's the one that sentenced nineteen people to hang. And the Special Court of Whatever ended in 1693 and was replaced by the Superior Court of…I don't even know how to pronounce this. Ju-dic-a-ture? I guess?"

"Stick with the court that convicted people," Alice advised. "Who was on that?"

Tanisha pulled her own phone out of the pocket of her emerald green school jacket and checked for herself. "The chief judge was William Stoughton, who just _happened_ to be Phips' Lieutenant Governor. And there were nine other guys who were Stoughton's underlings: [Jonathan Corwin of Salem, Thomas Danforth of Boston, Bartholomew Gedney of Salem, John Hathorne of Salem, John Richards of Boston, Nathaniel Saltonstall of Haverhill, Peter Sargent of Boston, Samuel Sewall of Salem, and Wait Winthrop of Boston](http://people.ucls.uchicago.edu/~snekros/Salem%20Journal/Legal/AllenJ.html)." She considered for a moment. "Hathorne was like a zealous prosecutor. Out for blood, most of the time. He's probably supposed to be a Scourer."

"'Supposed to be'?" bristled Mrs. Frazer. 

"Well," said Nick in a reasonable tone, "the textbook doesn't say who the Scourers were. It just says that wizarding historians _believe_ that there were at least two Scourers. It doesn't offer any proof, or even any names. We don't know that they're right."

"That leaves Corwin, Gedney and Sewall," said Lara. "They're the only local ones, apart from Hathorne."

"Samuel Sewall would have been a highly unlikely Scourer," replied Mrs. Frazer. "In 1698, he issued a public confession expressing deep remorse for convicting innocent people."

"People?" Tanisha asked, striving to pour as much sweetness into her voice as possible. "Not witches and wizards?"

Mrs. Frazer gave her a sharp, slantwise glare that all but shouted that she'd taken the point. "No. People. Though it would have been better if he had resigned from the court during the trials. Saltonstall did."

"So, assuming that the book is right—" Lara began.

"It's not," Tanisha said between her teeth.

"—then it's between Corwin and Gedney." 

Mrs. Frazer shook her head, nearly dislodging her bun as she did so. "Jonathan Corwin does not show up often in the records of the trials. And he was not a particularly important magistrate even before that. He dealt with local offenses. Burglary. Drunkenness. He was only appointed after Nathaniel Saltonstall resigned from the court after it decided to admit spectral evidence."

"Like…a ghost testifying?" said Vivian Li. "That would be interesting."

"No," said Tanisha with complete disgust, her fists clenching involuntarily. "It means that I can say in court that you cast _Crucio_ on me while I was sleeping, and I know that you did this because I saw your spirit hexing me. And then the court accepts it as true, because it's not like anyone could possibly _lie_ about that."

Vivian gaped at her. "But saying something's so isn't _proof!_ That doesn't make any sense!"

"Tell me about it."

"And only one judge quit over this?"

"Just one," Mrs. Frazer interrupted. "Regrettably, neither Saltonstall's replacement nor the rest of the judges seem to have considered quitting. On the other hand, Corwin doesn't appear to have been unusually quarrelsome or litigious. His house is more memorable than he is; it's a museum now in Salem, as it’s the last building from the witch trials era still standing. No, I believe that we can dismiss Mr. Corwin from consideration."

"So now we're down to Gedney," Lara said, sighing. "I don't know anything _about_ Gedney."

"He was a physician," said Mrs. Frazer. "And he, like Hathorne and Corwin, dealt with the property of the accused. He was a foolish man; when his friend John Alden was brought up before the court, Gedney was so convinced by the apparent torment of the girls that he said 'always looked upon him to be an honest man, but now he did see cause to alter his judgment.'"

"A buncha white girls yowling that they were in pain," Tanisha muttered. "Girls who were getting famous and whose families—some of them—were getting richer. That's all it took to make Gedney give up on a friend."

"I think I hate these jerks," said Nick. "Is there any way to hex them retroactively?" 

"Why?" snapped Tanisha. "Wanna convince them their victims are doubly guilty?"

"Point. I still want to punish them, though." He turned Mrs. Frazer. "So…was Gedney a Scourer?"

"It's unlikely. As I said, he seems to have been easily swayed. I would expect a self-hating wizard to have more conviction, wouldn't you? And he didn't attend many cases." She shrugged. "That would seem to indicate his influence was negligible."

"So…one judge who hated magic and viewed it as evil," Vivian muttered as she scowled at the ceiling. "Which would have been pretty normal back then for most Christians without magic, right? So hating magic doesn't prove that Hathorne was a Scourer. It doesn't even prove that he was a wizard. And the others from Salem don't seem very impressive."

"And a claim about judges who had feuds with the accused that isn't backed by any documentation about Salem's trials ever," added Alice. "Something is not right."

Mrs. Frazer heaved a deep sigh."If I may continue?" Ignoring the calls and mutters of "No!", she picked up _History of Magic in North America_ from her desk and resumed reading. "'A number of the dead were indeed witches, though utterly innocent of the crimes for which they had been arrested. Others were merely No-Majs who had the misfortune to be caught up in the general hysteria and bloodlust.'"

"That," said Tanisha slowly, "is even dumber than the bullshit in the last part."

"I would prefer it if you would use less colorful language."

"It's accurate!"

"Oh? Can you please explain why?"

Was that a gleam in Mrs. Frazer's eye? Tanisha didn't see how it could be—or what she had to be pleased about. Nevertheless, she answered.

"There weren't many dead. Nineteen were hanged. One—Giles Corey—was pressed to death with stones by people trying to get him to enter a plea of guilty or not guilty. And five died in prison—Lydia Dustin, Ann Foster, Mercy Good, Sarah Osborne and Roger Toothaker. Lydia died in prison after being found not guilty because she couldn't pay the fucking jail fees. They wouldn't let you out if you couldn’t pay them. Ann Foster was an old lady who helped heal people; she was condemned to die and then got trapped in prison while the colonial government tried to decide whether to execute the last batch of those sentenced or not! Sarah Osborne didn't even live to be tried. Roger Toothaker probably died of torture. And Mercy was only a baby. A _literal_ baby. 

"So." She swept the room with her glare. "So assuming that some of the hanged or those who died in prison were witches—I gotta leave Giles Corey out of this, because if _he'd_ been a witch, I think he'd have cursed the entire court and made the jail vaporize besides—but assuming some of the other dead were witches, why did they die?"

"How could they have prevented it?" asked Nick.

"Apparition," Tanisha said, standing up and enunciating every syllable. "All they had to do was focus on anywhere else that they wanted to be—and I bet they would rather have been anywhere but a cold, damp underground jail, especially the ones held there in the winter! Okay, they were shackled, but they could cast _Evanesco_ on their shackles and make them vanish! And if they weren't any good at Apparition, what about _Levicorpus_? They could have floated above the ground, the noose not strangling them or breaking their necks at all! And then cast _Relashio_ to make the noose's knot unbind! They could have cast _Imperio_ on the 'afflicted girls' and on the Putnams, forcing them to admit to everyone from the governor on down that the accusations were all lies. And if any other spells were being blocked by magic, _Finite Incantatem_ would have broken that block. Witches and wizards could have saved themselves _and_ any unmagical people who were suffering along with them!"

She flung herself into her seat and tried very hard not to cast a spell that would make the whiteboard explode. "So why _didn't_ they?"

"They might not have been as magically educated as all that," murmured Mrs. Frazer. "America's most noteworthy magical school, Ilvermorny, was no more than a shack at the time, only two teachers and two students."

Alice snorted. "Dame schools for magicless kids only had one teacher. _Most_ schools had only one teacher. Kids who didn't have a drop of magic still went on Yale and Harvard—and at ten or twelve, too! I don't see why witches and wizards couldn't do just as well as magicless kids did."

"And Ilvermorny is _still_ a shack," Nick put in. "I don't care how allegedly fantastic its reputation is. Give me Rainbow High any day."

"A-fucking-MEN," said Alice.

Tanisha grinned. "Rainbow High"—the nickname of their school—was one of the more liberal magical educational institutions in the U.S., with a distinct focus on accepting and understanding different cultures, magical or not, and LGBTQIA+ kids. It also completely ignored the magical world's usual pretense that the magicless world did not exist, save as a potential threat. Edmonia Lewis Academy was even named after a woman who hadn't been a witch; the academy's founder, Eunice Pickles, had simply admired the neoclassicist sculptor and had named the school after her.

"Anyway," Vivian added, breaking into Tanisha's thoughts, "there weren't any wandmakers in America that early—the book says so. So the witches in Salem must have been used to doing wandless magic. And wandless magic is supposed to be stronger than magic with wands."

"It was, as long as it was only Europeans doing wandless magic." Tanisha wrinkled her nose, grimacing and feeling as if she would like to spit lightning. "But then suddenly this book decided that Native Americans as a group—because it's not like there are different tribes with different cultures! —didn't use wands in the colonial era, so wands had to become superior European technology. Not, you know, a tool that people can learn to do without. Couldn't have the natives being better at wandless magic than the whites."

"I thought that there was supposed to be all this respect and sense of kinship between wizards of different races," Nick said.

"If you believe that," Tanisha said, pulling her pink earbuds from her bookbag, "could I interest you in this pair of pink diamonds?"

Nick flapped a large hand at the earbuds. "No, seriously. If there was all this perfect respect and understanding, why wouldn't the witches and wizards of Salem know how to cast spells or Apparate? Some would have learned from the natives, right? And the ones who learned could have taught the others. There really isn't an excuse for this kind of ignorance to hang on for more than a generation or so—and by 1692, there'd been colonists in Massachusetts Bay for seventy-two years."

"Longer," retorted Vivian. "According to the book, the people of Europe and the natives were popping back and forth for _centuries_." 

She flipped through her textbook. "Yeah, here it is. 'Various modes of magical travel–brooms and Apparition among them–not to mention visions and premonitions, meant that even far-flung wizarding communities were in contact with each other from the Middle Ages onwards. The Native American magical community and those of Europe and Africa had known about each other long before the immigration of European No-Majs in the seventeenth century. They were already aware of the many similarities between their communities.'"

Tanisha thought that if she rolled her eyes this time, she'd sprain them. "Oh, yeah. Constant contact, trust, and awareness of similarities. Those would totally explain smallpox blankets and slavery. Apparently all wizards were fine with shit like that, even if the sickness or the slavery were happening to their people."

"Dude, are you really surprised that the people who wrote this book spew pure bullshit, or that we're supposed to believe it?" Nick said. "Eighteen years ago, Voldie's scumbuckets were claiming that Muggleborns had stolen their magic from other wizards, and people over in England and Scotland were eating it up."

"Also," said Vivian patiently, "if the people of Europe and the natives were popping back and forth all the time—to the point where it was routine—then _why didn't the witches of Salem do that?_ Shouldn't the book mention just one case of a fugitive witch Apparating to England or evading capture? But there's nothing. Twenty-five dead people, all with names and documentation. They all had every reason in the world to run…well, not Mercy Good, since she was a baby. But everyone else did. And yet we're supposed to believe that none of the witches and wizards did anything to save their lives. None of them worked with their fellow captives, magical or non-magical. I've never even heard of an _attempt_ to break out of Salem's jail!" 

She chewed on a knuckle thoughtfully. "And by the way, 'No-Maj' sounds an awful lot like 'trying too hard to be cool' to me. It definitely doesn't sound like seventeenth-century slang."

"I'm more bothered by the word 'merely'," Alice growled. "'Others were _merely_ No-Majs'? What I'm hearing is 'the people who don't have magic don't count, so who cares if they died?' Fuck _that_ noise."

"And weren't some people spared if they confessed?" Lara said. "Weren't some even acquitted?" At Mrs. Frazer's emphatic nod, she then demanded, "Well, then, if the Scourers wanted to murder everyone with magic, if that was their whole plan, then why were these people spared?"

"I hate to see what comes next," Tanisha groaned, but she couldn't resist peeking. The sheer irrationality of the book, which did not bother to make magicless history and magical history even remotely compatible and which contradicted itself from chapter to chapter, exuded the compelling fascination of a trainwreck. It was ugly, even horrific, but it was almost impossible to look away.

So far.

"'Salem was significant within the magical community for reasons far beyond the tragic loss of life,' she read aloud. 'Its immediate effect was to cause many witches and wizards to flee America, and many more to decide against locating there.'"

Alice burst out laughing.

"I'm sorry," she said, choking back her giggles. "It's just—wow, whoever wrote this did _not_ think it through. If wizards had been traveling back and forth between the New World and the Old since medieval times, what was stopping the Scourers from following the ones who fled back to Europe and killing them there? Because I'm not seeing an ocean as much of a barrier when you _and_ your enemies can Apparate or fly past it."

"And weren't witch trials still going on back in Europe, anyway?" demanded Vivian. 

"Plenty of them," Mrs. Frazer admitted. "It didn't become illegal in England to accuse someone of witchcraft until 1735. And the last person executed for witchcraft on the Continent—after a formal witch trial, that is—was Veronika Zeritschin. She was Swiss, and she died in Glarus in 1756 for bewitching and poisoning a child, though there was no evidence she'd done either." An odd look of compassion crept over her asymmetrical face as she gazed at her students. "She was fifteen."

"I don't suppose we'll read about _her_ in this book," Alice said sourly. "It sounds like she was magicless."

Tanisha wasn't listening. "Formal witch trials," she repeated. "You mean that there were executions without witch trials?"

Mrs. Frazer sighed deeply. "When a court had dubious authority or when a mob decided to murder whomever it currently feared? Definitely. The most recent fatality I can think of is the witch of Sible Hedingham, and I wince to report that because he was deaf-mute, he was referred to as 'Dummy.' Which just goes to prove that his neighbors were neither imaginative nor kind. 

"At the age of eighty or so, the gentleman in question asked if he could sleep at the house of a beerhouse keeper. The keeper's wife, Emma Smith, said no, and he expressed his displeasure through various gestures and by touching his walking stick. Sometime after this, Smith became ill. She was convinced that he had cursed her and begged him to remove the spell."

"But what if there wasn't any spell?" Nick demanded. 

"I doubt if that ever occurred to her," Mrs. Frazer said softly. "One day she met him by accident at a public house. She begged him to come to her house, offering him three sovereigns to do so. Three sovereigns in 1863 would be the equivalent of—oh, about £256.40 in 2014 money. Or fifty-one Galleons, eight Sickles and seven Knuts in British wizarding currency. Not too surprisingly, he felt that this was far too much money for a poor man who made his living by telling fortunes and gestured that he feared the money would result in his getting his throat cut. Unfortunately, news got around that a witch and his victim were at the public house, and before long a mob was at the tavern, pulling the old man this way and that, dancing him about. He fell to the ground quite violently once or twice—again, not surprising, as he needed a walking stick.

"The real problem, however, was Smith. When the tavern closed—and since the mob had created a virtual riot, I have no doubt that it closed early—she kept insisting that he was coming home with her. She then tore off his coat, beat his arms and shoulders with a stick, and pushed him into a brook near the Swan."

Tanisha could picture it—a frightened old man who couldn't hear one word out of ten, a man who couldn't scream for help even if he tried. In her imagination, he looked like her maternal grandfather, a short skinny man with dandelion-fluff hair encircling his head like a frost-colored halo and skin the color of polished mahogany. He was old and tired right now, but give him a moment of hope and he'd be drinking rum, telling stories in Sign—or gestures and shadow pictures—and making everyone laugh and feel better. 

_Chikondi_ , she decided, picking a Chewa name that one of her distant cousins had named her son. It meant "love." _That's what I'm calling you. 'Cause you need it._

On the other hand, Tanisha envisioned Emma Smith as being ready for an audition as Madame Thénardier in _Les Miz_ —a big, blowsy woman with frizzy, badly dyed red hair who could heft a beer keg under each arm without pausing for breath. She had ice-hard eyes and the expression of a mean dog that was just about to attack. Tanisha was just wishing that she had a Time Turner so that she could Apparate Chikondi to safety (and then come back and hex Smith into oblivion) when she realized that Mrs. Frazer was speaking again.

"When he tried to get out on the other side, she and a man named Samuel Stammers circled around and pushed him back in." 

Tanisha pictured Stammers instantly: a selfish Mack truck of a man with oily brown hair, watery blue eyes and a sullen, petulant expression that said he didn't mind doing what he was told as long as he could hurt someone else in the process.

"When he finally managed to get out on one side, Smith and Stammers grabbed him and flung him into a portion of the brook that was dammed up and fairly deep. It was only when someone called out that the old man would die if he didn't get out of the water that Stammers pulled him out. Eventually they led him home to his hovel and left him there—sodden, exhausted, suffering the effects of a very bad beating, and barely able to move. He was found the next morning. He spent the next month in a workhouse infirmary, dying of pneumonia and internal injuries. He died on September 4, 1863."

It didn't surprise Tanisha, much as she wanted it to. Vicious, spiteful assholes were dangerous, especially when they weren't handed whatever they felt was rightfully theirs. What she mostly felt was sick to her stomach…as if she had just witnessed a murder.

"So they wouldn't have gotten away from anything by running back to Europe," Lara said quietly. 

"'Course not," Nick replied indignantly. "People had been killing witches in Europe for _centuries_ —well, not real ones, most of the time, but people that they thought were witches. America didn't _invent_ witch hunts. Remember when we had to write that essay about witch hunts in the fourteenth century being pointless?"

"I remember you saying that we should have been focusing on the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, because that's when most of the witch trials in Europe were," Lara retorted. "And that Flame-Freezing Spells wouldn't do much good against executioners' axes, garrotes, nooses, deep rivers or being buried alive."

Nick shrugged. "My mom's a neo-pagan. I grew up hearing about this—even _before_ my powers kicked in. Anyway, her attitude isn't that all magicless people are awful; she says that you have to know what really happened so that you can avoid letting it happen again." He squinted at his text. "She's gonna _hate_ this book." 

"Apparition contradicts everything this book says," Alice said. "Also, not loving how it demonizes a whole group of people and homogenizes a couple of others. And doesn't the existence of the Scourers contradict the 'all wizards felt great respect and kinship with each other' thing?"

"I'm still stuck on why the Scourers wouldn't go back to Europe and kill the people who ran away," Vivian replied. "And I don't see why America would be considered so terrible for wizards when Salem was centuries in the past—especially since there were witch trials long after 1693 in Europe. Seriously, are we supposed to believe that if a witch was running from a war or a pogrom or the latest Dark Lord and was offered a ticket on a flying carpet to America, all expenses paid, they would rip the ticket into shreds and shriek, 'Haven't you heard of the Salem witch trials? I know they were two hundred years ago and there haven't been any executions for witchcraft in American since then, but the Scourers could reappear at any time! I _can't_ go _there_!'" Dramatically, she swooned onto her desk.

Without opening her eyes, she added, "That's not rational behavior. That's _opera_. And look, I love opera, but I can't believe that every single witch and wizard in Europe would act like they were the lead characters in one."

"Magical history should be consistent with ordinary history!" wailed Lara. "This doesn't even match up with our previous magical history lessons!"

"I'm not reading it," Tanisha said, feeling that the words falling from her lips really should be carved in stone. Preferably planet-sized. "I won't read what this book says about slavery or the Civil War. My brain will melt from the stupid." _And don't any of you say that's already happened, because I am so not in a mood for jokes right now._

"Well!" said Mrs. Frazer brightly. "You all seem to have some very strong opinions about the new textbook."

No one replied. They didn't have to. The oppressive outrage in the air was so strong that it felt like a thunderstorm gathering.

"Unfortunately," Mrs. Frazer said, sighing, "I really will have to insist that you read it."

"No!" snapped Tanisha.

"The local school board mandates it, Tanisha," Mrs. Frazer said in a voice filled with dreadful patience. "They want me to teach from it as a primary source. Because of this, I must insist that you read it—and review every chapter, every _sentence_ —thoroughly, checking for factual errors involving magical and/or magicless history, for illogic, for cultural appropriation, for underlying assumptions that display racism, classism, sexism, homophobia or ableism, for erasure of cultures and of people…a thorough, detailed, analytical dissection of the work. Or," and a pleased smile began to dawn on her crooked face, "what is the term that they use on the internet? A spork?"

Tanisha glanced at the others. She was sure that the same flabbergasted expression that they were wearing was on her own face. "Sorry?" she said. "You _want_ us to take it apart?"

"I'm sure that the school board would like me to tell you to believe every word," Mrs. Frazer said, still smiling. "Both the administration and I have been over this book several times already, and while the school board won't budge, I _do_ have the administration's permission to teach it as I choose—even if the school board doesn't like it. I am here to teach history, not propaganda. You are all far, far too intelligent for me to lie to you, even if I was inclined to do so. And you have come up with excellent arguments indicating at least some of the problems with the text. Well done. 

"So I will continue to read the book in class, to review any pieces of information that you might find relevant, and to try to answer your questions. And you can continue to—I suppose I should say 'discuss it in class', but 'yell' is more accurate—and vivisect it in essays and short answers. Computer files _and_ printouts, please, in case some witch or wizard on the school board hasn't figured out what a laptop is yet.

"So yes. Please. Take it apart. Take it apart _thoroughly_. And cite everything that proves it wrong." Her smile, if possible, grew wider. "I look forward to it."

The bell rang as she was telling them to type up essays on the Salem witch trials chapter. Tanisha and her friends were beaming at each other as they meandered out the door.

***

Ember Frazer sat down at her desk and began to adapt her lesson plan.

She hadn't been sure her students would go for it, but they had. That was good; they could and would learn independently. But she also had to add a great deal that the book had left out. Lessons on magic in Canada, Mexico, Central America. South America, if she could manage it, and never mind that the name of the book and the class were identical—or that North America did _not_ encompass the central or southern versions. The use of magic in the slave rebellions in the Caribbean and in America—not just the victory at Harper's Ferry, where John Brown, Harriet Tubman and enough followers to start a new nation had seized muskets, rifles, wands and brooms from a U.S. arsenal, because _everyone_ knew about that. Highlights of the magical histories of at least some Native American and First Nations people, such as the times that white wizards had tried to claim, rename or build on the sacred mountain known as Six Grandfathers. Each time it had been attempted, someone—native wizards, the gods to which the mountain was sacred, or both—had fought back. Printers and copyeditors forgot any attempt to rename it on maps, explorers and surveyors vanished as if they were soap bubbles melting into air, and the irrational plan to carve the images of presidents onto the mountain had lasted exactly one night. No one knew precisely what happened, but those initially amenable to the idea had met the next day to drop it. Legend had it that their eyes had been full of screams. 

Yes, there was plenty of magical history to discuss.

As she sorted through the lessons, moving some and doubling up others, she wondered briefly what the textbook might have been like if it had been less determined to tell students that everything in the wizarding world was fine and wonderful, and that it would stay that way as long as wizards avoided the magicless and the self-hating.

After all, people didn't generally need to be _informed_ that they were happy, and that all was blissful and untroubled in the best of all possible worlds.

***  
**AUTHOR'S NOTES:**

To anyone asking, "But what about MACUSA's laws of secrecy? Wouldn't the school get in trouble?", see the tag "Not Pottermore Compliant." I'm presuming, for the sake of this series, that _History of Magic in North America_ is a wildly inaccurate and propagandizing textbook (i.e., like many history books currently in use in United States schools), and that while MACUSA may have passed laws restricting all contact with all Muggles (to use the canonical rather than the Pottermore term), to the point of outlawing marriages or even friendship between witches, wizards and Muggles, despite the fact that most American wizards are Muggleborn...this is America. Americans have never had any problem breaking laws that they do not agree with. Hell, the country was founded on the principle of "Fuck off, King George! You don't get to tell ME what to do!" 

Not to mention that I suspect that out of 600+ tribal nations—which would have numbered in the millions of people nationwide during the Salem witch trials—at least some would not have wanted the whites here and would not have given a fuck about the secrecy laws. That goes double for anyone—black, Native American, biracial or triracial—who was enslaved and wanted to be free. If breaking the secrecy laws hurt their owners, why would escaping or rebelling slaves obey such laws?

In a contentious country like America, there is no possible way that the Masquerade would have lasted long. The secrecy laws would have been about as effective as Prohibition. 

So Tanisha and her classmates inhabit a world similar but not identical to our own, while MACUSA sulks and ignores the laws' ineffectiveness. (Hey, we've been doing that for decades with the war on drugs and the three strikes law. Legislatures are not always quick to admit that they've made mistakes.)

***

I named Tanisha "Jemisin" before I read N.K. Jemisin's sterling essay, "[It Could've Been Great](http://nkjemisin.com/2016/03/it-couldve-been-great/)." She is named for N.K. Jemisin, however, because I am currently reading my fifth Jemisin book, _The Broken Earth_.

Edmonia Lewis Academy—a.k.a. "Rainbow High"—is a completely non-canonical school in Providence, Rhode Island. I thought that the Potterverse could use a school that was overtly open to LGBTQIA+ kids. And yes, [Edmonia Lewis](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edmonia_Lewis) is a real person—the first person of African-American and Native American descent to receive international acclaim as a sculptor.

Tanisha's ancestor, [Mary Black](http://salem.lib.virginia.edu/texts/tei/BoySal1R?div_id=n15), was a real person. She was the slave of Nathaniel Putnam, nephew of Thomas Putnam and cousin of "afflicted girl" Ann Putnam Jr. As stated in the story, Nathaniel spoke out against the arrest of Rebecca Nurse, and shortly after that, Mary was accused of witchcraft as well. The intent was probably to make Mary panic and accuse Nathaniel of witchcraft, too, but Nathaniel stuck by her, paying her jail fees, refusing to accuse her and, it is strongly suspected, coaching her so that she'd be prepared for questioning. Mary was not only eventually released from jail by proclamation of the governor but she also survived the witch hunt. (Nor did Nathaniel sell her, which, given that she'd been accused of witchcraft, was apparently considered unusual.)

As Tanisha mentions, Black was one of three slaves who were accused of witchcraft in the Salem witch trials, the other two being [Tituba (also known as Tituba Indian and the wife of John Indian](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tituba#Race)) and [Candy, the Afro-Barbadian slave of Mistress Margaret Hawkes of Salem Town (as opposed to Salem Village)](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Candy_\(Salem_witch_trials\)). Although [Candy not only admitted being a witch but accused her owner](http://salem.lib.virginia.edu/texts/tei/BoySal1R?div_id=n23), she was found not guilty and was released. Mistress Hawkes was never arrested.

You can read about Thomas and Nathaniel Putnam, as well as the rest of their litigious and unpleasant clan, [here](http://www.legendsofamerica.com/ma-putnam3.html).

The story about Bartholemew Gedney and his insta-doubt about a close friend's innocence can be found on numerous sites, [such as this one](http://bapresley.com/genealogy/hawkins/gedney/bartholomewgedney.html). It seems to be the main thing he's known for.

Jonathan Corwin's old house is indeed now known as the [Salem Witch House](http://newenglandfolklore.blogspot.com/2011/10/salem-witch-house-and-jonathan-corwin.html) and is a museum of commemorating the trials. You can see some pictures from it at the link.

The name of [Sarah Osborne](http://salem.lib.virginia.edu/texts/tei/BoySal2R?div_id=n95) may be familiar to those who have read books or seen movies or TV shows about the Salem witch trials, as she was one of the first people accused. The names of [Lydia Dustin](http://womenshistory.about.com/od/salempeople/p/lydia_dustin.htm), [Ann Foster](http://womenshistory.about.com/od/Accused/fl/Ann-Foster.htm), [Roger Toothaker](http://www.geni.com/people/Dr-Roger-Toothaker-of-Billerica-Beverly/6000000007052520246) and Mercy Good are less well known, but they are no less real.

[Sadly, the Sible Hedingham witchcraft case also happened](http://www.foxearth.org.uk/HeadinghamWitchcraftCase.html). I wish I could say it had not.

Although the Sible Hedingham case is the last known execution for witchcraft in the U.K., formal trials for witchcraft took place after this. [Ellen Hayward](http://www.deanweb.info/history7.html) (whom I learned about from [Naraht](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6434527)) was tried in 1906; the charges were dismissed. And even she was not the last. 

The last person in England to be imprisoned under the Witchcraft Act of 1735 was Victoria Helen McCrae Duncan, better known as Helen Duncan, a false medium from Scotland who, in a seánce in late 1941, revealed that the _HMS Barham_ had sunk--something that the Admiralty had been trying to keep quiet since December of 1941 but had revealed to the families of the sailors. Only when the German High Command guessed in January 1942 that the _Barham_ had been sunk did the Admiralty admit the bad news, and even then newspapers did not report on it extensively. [When Duncan and the three people who arranged the seánce were arrested by undercover police and undercover naval officers on January 19, 1944, they were initially charged with vagrancy but later with conspiracy (punishable by death in wartime) and violation of the Witchcraft Act of 1735](http://www.webatomics.com/jason/barhamconspiracy.html). Not only that, she was convicted and sentenced to nine months in prison "for pretending to raise spirits of the dead". [This seems to have been due to a general fear that she had inside information about military secrets and might reveal something about the upcoming D-Day landings](http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/uknews/1314790/Last-witch-set-to-win-posthumous-pardon.html). The Witchcraft Act was repealed seven years later and was replaced by the Fraudulent Medium Act of 1951.

I figured out how much Emma Smith offered her victim to sleep in her house by finding out what a sovereign was worth at the time (a pound), [comparing the amount of three pounds then with its relative worth in pounds now](https://www.measuringworth.com/ukcompare/relativevalue.php), and then [converting pounds to wizarding money](http://www.buzzard.me.uk/jonathan/gringotts.html).

A native perspective on the mountain called Six Grandfathers but better known nowadays as Mount Rushmore may be found [here](http://nativeamericannetroots.net/diary/1212). The attempts to claim Six Grandfathers (and the rest of the Black Hills) failed in this version of the Potterverse because, to quote the article: _Carving icons of Presidents who were known for their insensitivity to Indian issues into a living sacred mountain would be similar to painting anti-Christian graffiti inside of cathedral, or anti-Semitic symbols inside a synagogue._ So in this world, where magic is real and there is no reason to suppose that gods would be less so, the natives won that particular battle. 

Likewise, magic is a powerful part of slave rebellions in this version of the Potterverse, and illness did not prevent Harriet Tubman from being at Harper's Ferry. Logically, the presence of magic would change events. That’s pretty much the premise of the alternate history genre: **"If you change one thing, other things will also change as a result."**

Finally, the title is a slight misquote of a line from Arthur Miller's _The Crucible_ : _We cannot look to superstition in this. The Devil is precise; the marks of his presence are definite as stone._ The textbook, _History of Magic in North America_ , contradicts, misleads and at times outright lies, claiming things occurred that the students know did not happen. It is _not_ precise...unless you mean "precisely wrong."


End file.
